Keeping My Pieces Locked in Boxes
by SilverTortoise
Summary: Odin is not dead, nor is Loki - there is Hel to pay for taking the throne from the Allfather. Thor, now living on Earth, is informed that the Trickster will be silenced once and for all... The former golden prince of Asgard will face anything, even Time, to stay his father's hand. But will Thor be able to pull Loki from the depths of madness? Or is Loki truly lost? Eventual M/M
1. Prologue

_**Six hundred and thirty stones to each side, each lined in little trickles of metal. See how the darkness bleeds through? How it claws and latches onto each new roughness on the rock, tearing and ripping through and leeching into the empty spaces...**_

_**It hurts more for the stitches to be torn out than to have them sewn in.**_

But then again, it always hurts, being unchained – wrists regaining the flow of blood, bruised flesh throbbing and tingling, legs cramped from being newly-unfolded – throat dry and raw from being unused. He has come to expect that even being _relieved_ from punishment will be uncomfortable. The guards are not paid to be gentle, even under the sweep of the Odinson's gaze (Thor is here, is he not?), and so Loki has to attempt to hide his pain as the manacles were torn free and his body is heaved upward into an unexpected standing position. His mouth bleeds freely for several moments, crimson dripping down his front and staining the threadbare tunic, before the skin begins to heal. Tingles of heat suffuse through his face and jaw.; in a few seconds, he'll be back to normal.

He blinks slowly to himself, then looks over to Thor.

Ah.

Was not Thor just there?

_**Perhaps the darkness took him too, clawing and reaching and screaming and...**_

Loki rolls his head to one side, then the other, his winces well-hidden as the muscles scream in protest. So. Odin would have him free, would he? Where _is_ Odin? And after all this time, restrained, muzzled, kept locked away from the rest of the Nine Realms, and...

"Silence your thoughts, Trickster," comes the stern reprimand, and _ah_ – has he really missed being spoken to? Certainly not from the one-eyed, bearded old man... No, that creature-king of Asgard could stay silent, and the worlds would rejoice.

"What, so you can hear my mind now, Allfather?" Loki croaks, a mass of apparent politeness, "If I had known, I wouldn't have allowed myself such _lurid_ daydreams earlier today..."

"_Be quiet,_" Odin snaps, stepping into view – into the stone cell – his staff clutched tightly in one fist, the other hand hidden behind his back. "There is no reason for you to speak, not anymore. And besides... I do not want to hear you."

"_**You will come with me now, brother," Thor says, breathing heavily, eyes full of rain and tortured thunder as Loki struggles to get away, "You will leave all of this behind. You will come home."**_

"_**No."**_

"Father," Loki whispers, though the word is not spoken in a plea, but spit out, heavy and loathsome on the tongue. How could he forgotten that today is the day?

_**Tick-tock, Loki, time to die...**_

Odin's heavy sigh is lost in the sudden buzzing which fills Loki's brain. The grating word, _brother_, also hangs heavy upon his lips – what is _wrong_ with him?! Thor... A billion ages away, and still somehow present on Death Day. Oh yes, the golden prince. But didn't he say he didn't want to be king?

"... Yes, yes," Odin mutters, and Loki realizes that he's spoken the last few words aloud, "Perhaps Frigga was right... Perhaps you are indeed mad."

Something boils within Loki's chest and he surges forward, stopping short with a grunt as the guards seize his slender arms with a bruising force. "Mother _loved_ me," he states, in a small angry voice like a child. The nonsensical words come, rushing, unheeded until they are out, and Loki almost chuckles at himself for thinking such things. She's dead, so she cannot feel anything for him now.

_**The look of barely-veiled pity in Thor's expression makes him choke down a laugh - "Do you think I will bite, Brother?" His voice rasps out in deep condescension, an eyebrow raised, eyes sharp, "Come, Thor... lead me away to whatever new prison you have devised..." Brothers and not brothers and how he wants to know that Thor is real and strong and just as tall as he remembered. What did that giant eat, growing up?**_

The harsh blow to the mouth is unexpected, the force of it thrusting Loki back and playing with his balance and vision. For one moment he thinks that it is Thor who has struck him for all the force behind it, but coldness settles over him as he blinks again and as Odin – instead – steps back, looking almost winded with rage. The trickster gingerly licks at his lower lip, grimacing as the heavy tang of blood is tasted. How typical. "You still have some strength, Allfather," he mumbles, head reeling, lip rapidly healing over again.

"_**Enough." The thunderer's voice crashes over him, but he cannot have enough. There can never be enough, not of this, not when Thor must continue to fight him – even over the bitter edge of reason and into madness. Oh no, Thor, you will never have me. You will never not have me.**_

_**Do not leave my side.**_

"Oh _yes,_ Thor, rescue me like one of your _maidens,_" It doesn't make any sense, but Loki rasps sarcastically, breathlessly, as the world is torn away from him, the elbow of one of the guards striking against his temple. The Trickster must be silent and compliant if he is to die today. It is with one final twinkling that Loki's mind spins into the darkness between the worlds, finding that it is warm there.

_**Rescue me, if you dare.**_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Hello, my dears! Yes I am finally back again, and I bring a Thor-inspired fanfic with me! :) It's been a long year, and I've been writing a lot (mostly on tumblr, roleplaying as many different characters). But watching The Dark World has reawakened the fanfiction muse, thankfully, so between work and other obligations, I hope that this story will turn out the way I have envisioned it. A huuuge thank you to everyone who has continued to read my Doctor Who stories – I love each and every one of you! This chapter is quite short, but fear not – more to come :)**_

_**- Liz**_

* * *

Little blonde hairs still tickled the back of his neck from there he'd left them – yes, the new, shorter style was more in keeping with Midgardian traditions, but replacing the familiar sweep of his Asgardian locks with the prickle of little shorn ends... Perhaps he needed to bathe, to wash the clippings away completely. Indeed, that is what he would do.

Thor sighed, heaving himself up from the tiny little couch in his just-as-small apartment, trudging dutifully towards the washroom and stripping as he went. It had been his habit since childhood, admittedly, shedding his clothing before a bath like a tree sheds its leafy raiment in the autumn. It had always gotten on Frigga's nerves, he remembered, the ghost of a smile playing around his mouth at the memory.

The water of the shower was hot, and it washed away the little shorn hairs and the smile at the same time.

There was reason to be glad, he thought, hands slow and automatic as he lathered up his short hair, letting the bubbles trickle down with the water; Jane had helped him find this new place here on Earth, and she was quite certain that he'd find some sort of occupation with which to use his time. Thor was rather drawn to the idea of working in a store – even though Lady Darcy had laughed aloud at this suggestion from the former god of thunder; the dark-haired girl had stated (hands clutching her stomach with mirth) that he should work at Starbucks. What stars had to do with coffee, Thor did not know, but perhaps he ought to take her advice.

He soon finished his shower, got out, and slowly went through the motions of drying himself. There was no need to dress, so with still-warm skin, Thor flopped heavily down onto his bed, facing the ceiling.

Tomorrow he'd learn more about getting a job. The hammer lay hidden deep in his closet to gather dust, so why not take things one step further and actually live as a human?

He'd renounced Asgard for a reason.

There was nothing there to go back to.

* * *

Eventually, he would sleep. The room was reasonably dark, and Thor was reasonably tired, so it was a fair assumption. Later on in the night there would be a rustle of wings, a soft clattering of claws, and then the flap of wings as two dark creatures took off into the night. On the kitchen table, Thor would later discover a small golden scroll, sealed with the mark of his father.

Odin's ravens always came when all were asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, you're going back to Asgard?" Jane's eyes were locked on his face, her delicate eyebrows raised in an expression of the utmost bemusement. "I mean... I know what you're saying," she corrected herself, with that little smile she got when she was embarrassed, "but I'm asking why you'd wish to return. So soon." She didn't miss the vague redness around the rims of his eyes, or how difficult it seemed to be for him to actually _look_ at her...

Thor would have smiled when she smiled, _should_ have smiled, unable to keep his mood sober when he was in her presence – she had a way of cheering him up, even if she felt somewhat conceited for thinking this way. It was something to be proud of, that she could cheer up the powerful prince of Asgard. _Former prince_, she corrected herself, _He wouldn't like to hear that... _

"Alas, Jane..."

Her head shot up, eyebrows contracting in concern. He always talked like that, always used fancy words and old-fashioned speech, but that word _alas_ was burdened with such... grief. If the red-rimmed eyes weren't enough to convince her, the torn-apart quality in his tone was enough.

"My brother has been sentenced to death," Thor stated, his words unusually blunt, the tension in his jaw and shoulders more than apparent now – Jane could see that he was angry, and for some reason the fact that he was attempting to hide the emotion, rather than storm and shout, frightened her.

"I'm sorry... what?" she asked quietly, eyes widening further in what was now true surprise, "I'm sorry if this sounds insensitive, Thor, but... wasn't Loki... already..."

"... Dead, yes," Thor finished, turning to the side and staring out the kitchen window at the bare tree outside, "Or so he led me to believe. It would seem that he either survived his injuries, or that he was never injured in the first place... and made his way back to Asgard to take the throne from my father." He let out air in a heavy sigh, reaching inside his jacket to pull out a little golden scroll. It was slightly crumpled, apparently wrinkled from the pressure of his fingers upon opening it.

"From my father." The scroll was extending out to her without a single glance, Thor's tone still that odd, calm, muted sound. And the word "father" seemed forced. Was she reading too much into it?

"So when he died, saving you," Jane began, a bit of anger creeping into her voice before she could stop it, "that was just another illusion? Just so he could get away and rule Asgard?" She took the scroll, holding it unopened in her hand for the time being.

"So it would seem," Thor replied, his tone almost cold, numbed more like, "I've barely had time to mourn him, and now it appears that my tears had come too early." The towering man straightened his spine, arms flexing as he folded them tightly over his chest.

"So... You said that Odin will... execute him?" Damn, she felt terrible actually saying the words aloud, but she couldn't help herself. As much as the mere sight of Loki made her want to slap him again, this seemed like a terrible end for the insane non-brother of Thor. Insane he must be, to try and rule the throne of Odin. From what she'd seen, the old king of Asgard didn't really appreciate being told what to do.

Jane blinked, focusing her thoughts once more on Thor and the matter at hand, that he wanted to go back to Asgard. "I... I'm sorry, that was really blunt..."

"It is alright," Thor grunted, shuffling his feet before taking a step away. Then he paused, head dropping before he continued in a softer tone, "Aye. In three days time, Odin says that Loki will die."

Jane had taken a step after him, her small hand somehow finding its way onto his forearm, and at last Thor looked down and met her gaze. "I don't know what to think," she began, thumb rubbing over his warm skin, "but I'm truly sorry, Thor. I can tell that this is really hard."

"Thank you..." The thunderer's words seemed to hang between them, and then he gently pulled back from her, heading towards the front door.

Jane blinked, speaking quickly, "Wait, so... So you'll call Heimdall?" A small frown of concern furrowed her brows, and she struggled to not dart forward and get in Thor's way, to stop him from... from what, exactly?

"Yes."

This was the only reply she got, and then the tall warrior opened her door, gave her one final, solemn glance, and then departed.

She let out the breath she'd been holding, mouth opening slightly as though she were about to speak into the now-empty room. Finally, with a little shrug, she glanced down at the golden letter in her hand. Perhaps she ought to read it.

* * *

_"Yes." _

Thor had known that he was acting cold – not cruel, but very distant – but there were so many things at hand, so many things he didn't want to know and yet could not ignore...

He had to go.

The door closed behind him softly, the chill of the winter air a sharp contrast to the warmth he'd left behind in Jane's home. He paid the cold no heed, however, striding instead down the concrete steps toward the main street below. Yes, it was wide open here – Heimdall would open the Bifrost without trouble.

Large fists curled at his side, nails biting slightly into calloused palms. Then he extended one hand, silently calling Mjolnir to his side, then speaking aloud towards the clouded sky, "Heimdall, I am in need of your services. Take me home."

Within seconds the mighty hammer slammed into his fist, its weight welcome and familiar, ready to aid in his flight back to Asgard.

Except there was no fire from the sky, and Heimdall never replied.

The air stayed silent.

* * *

_To Thor, keeper of Mjolnir, _Jane read, _and former crown prince of Asgard, from Odin Allfather, ruler supreme of Asgard and keeper of the realms._

_As much as it pains Us to admit, it would seem that you want for the throne no more, thus leaving this realm without an heir, unless one is named. Fear not – you are still Our son, and there shall be no cause for war between us. You have made your decision. _

_There is cause, however, for you to be informed that Loki has been captured after attempting to impersonate Our person in an audience with you. Whether or not he influenced your choice to depart to Midgard is not Our concern, however, for either way he shall face certain death at Our hand in three days' time. Under duress he admitted to falsifying his death in your arms, and under further duress, he asked that death be brought upon him. We shall grant his final request._

_Hoping that you are well._


End file.
